


Pinewood and Heartbreak

by AllTheseSquaresMakeACircle



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alpha Derek Hale, Alternate Universe, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Cottage Witch Stiles, Cuddling & Snuggling, Derek Hale is Bad at Feelings, Domestic Derek Hale/Stiles Stilinski, Domestic Fluff, Domestic Stiles Stilinski, Dubious Consent, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Feral Behavior, Feral Derek Hale, Fluff, Found Family, It Gets Worse Before It Gets Better, M/M, Magical Stiles Stilinski, POV Derek Hale, POV Stiles Stilinski, Pack Dynamics, Protective Derek Hale, Recovery, Scent Marking, Slow Build Derek Hale/Stiles Stilinski
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-03-16
Updated: 2021-03-16
Packaged: 2021-03-24 16:08:26
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,472
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30074820
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AllTheseSquaresMakeACircle/pseuds/AllTheseSquaresMakeACircle
Summary: Stiles had lived in the forest ever since...It didn't matter. Derek lived in the forest since...It also didn't matter. They met each other, with no real idea of what the other really was, and why they had been alone for so long. Then, that to, didn't seem to matter. Because what came next...was more than either of them could have ever dreamed of.
Relationships: Cora Hale/Isaac Lahey, Derek Hale/Stiles Stilinski, Lydia Martin/Jackson Whittemore
Comments: 3
Kudos: 39





	Pinewood and Heartbreak

**Author's Note:**

> So I love FeralDerek and I love MagicalStiles. But then, I thought to myself, what about a version of Stiles that's a cottage witch, and about lost my goddamn mind. Strap in guys, cause this is gonna be uncharted territory.

It was a strange thing. Staying as a wolf for so long. Derek hadn’t had a sense of time for a while now. He knew that there had been a fire. He knew that he had barely escaped. He knew that one of his parents died, and that he became an alpha because of it. And he knew that it was entirely his fault.

Kate Argent had come out of nowhere. Long brown hair. Cheeky smile. Smelling of sunshine and morning dew. He hadn’t stood one bit of chance. The fire took everything from him. His pack. His home. His sanity. Staying in the wolf was easier. Easier than staying as a man. The wolf didn’t feel complicated human emotions. It just wanted to hunt.

Thought, that wasn’t entirely true. The wolf wanted a pack. It wanted a home. It wanted more than sleeping under the cover of a tree in the rain. Or in a damp cave. Fighting off bears for the best sleeping spaces. It was wanted more. But Derek knew that he didn’t deserve it.

Traversing the world was rather easy. No one ever paid him any real mind. There were occasional campers. Hikers. Other nature enthusiasts. He ignored them, and they walked in the opposite direction. His wolf was by no means small. And was more than enough to scare off most people.

There were, of course, those who often felt a bit more bold. Trying to approach him with an outstretched hand. Placid face. Eyes to the ground. Like he was a dog to be pet. A short, sharp growl usually sent most of them scattering. If not, a show of teeth did the trick. He didn’t want their pity.

He never strays far from the woods that he called home. Nor did he ever have any desire to do so. That being said, he stayed far away from the burnt shell of his family home. Stayed away from the smell of smoke and pain. Some days, on the worst days, he could pick it up on the wind. On those days, he would scamper away. Covering his nose with dirt and leaves. Desperate to try and cover the smell of his shame.

Apart from the shell of his home, the woods offer peace and a sense of purpose. As a wolf, he knew his place. He knew where he belonged. Even without a pack. Even without betas. He knew that he had a place in these trees. Though, the days seemed to stretch longer. As well as the nights. And with each passing full moon, the wolf grew stronger. He knew, somewhere, deep down, wherever the man had been buried, he knew.

Part of him was afraid. Werewolves were not animals. But being consumed by the shift was still a very real possibility. Derek had no real count of how many days he had been shifted. How many weeks. How many months. How many years. What little self-awareness he had was slipping. And with it, he would never be able to take a human form again.

He pushes those thoughts aside. Favoring to simple run. Chasing rabbits and deer through the greenery. There is no hunt in it. Only the chase. He was by no means hungry or underfed. The alpha just wanted something to do. Something to pass the time. He loses himself in it. Taking great pleasure in the simple, primal revelry of it all. And as time slips into incoherence, he catches a new scent.

There is something strange about it. Namely, because it scares him. As an alpha, there was very little that frightened him. He was a predator. An apex predator at that. But this…this was not the scent of anything that he had ever encountered before.

It was the smell of the sky before lightning struck. The smell of the earth before it shook. The smell of the wind before a hurricane. All the forces of nature. The immovable things of creation. The things that no man or shifter could stand against. Somehow rolled into one. But, even though he had admitted his own fear, he was intrigued all the same.

He follows the scent to a deeper part of the woods. One he wasn’t all that familiar with. Derek knew better than to go places he did not know. He wasn’t the only predator in these woods. Bears. Cougars. Things of that nature. And while he was more than capable of handling himself in a fight, being injured would make him vulnerable.

When he clears through the density of the trees, what meets him, what he sees, is not what he was expecting. There was a small, simple cottage. Gorgeous oak wood. Expertly cut and crafted. There was a warmth to it. The wolf whined. Underneath the scent of primal nature, there was something else. Cinnamon and freshly brewed tea. Homey things. Things that made him miss everything that had been taken from him. 

Amongst all the heartbreak and nostalgia, he can hear a lone, single heartbeat. Quick, and uneven. But not afraid. Alert, but not afraid. From the smell, he could have guessed that whoever was here, wasn’t human. At least, not entirely. There was a wide, endless range of creatures that existed in the world. Derek didn’t know all of them.

Curiosity peaked, he decides to rest just outside the boundaries of the cottage. Waiting. Watching. Wanting see who this place belonged to. What kind of person they were. As far as Derek knew, only his family lived in the preserve. No one else. Given that most of it belonged to them. So, for this person to be here…

He doesn’t have to wait all that long. As the back door of the cottage opens. And a young man steps out. He’s on the young side. No more than twenty at best. Tall as well. Had Derek been in human form, he would’ve been a head shorter than the other man.

From all outside appearances, he seemed perfectly normal. Short, but messy chestnut hair. Pale skin. Derek couldn’t see any physical sign that he wasn’t anything but human. The scent, of course, says otherwise. It doesn’t make any sense. Until it does.

The young man has noticed Derek yet. So he manages to get a keen view. He raises a jar to a hook just outside the door. There is a still, stone like silence. Where all the forest seemed to go quiet. Then, the inside of the jar was glowing. Magic.

Derek had heard of people who had such abilities. He had never met one before. But his mother had spoken of them often. They were much like werewolves, but opposite. Werewolves, of course, had magic. But it was internal. To change their shape and run equal with nature. This kind of magic was different. It pushed outwards. Affecting and changing the world around it.

That explained the strangeness of the man’s scent. Why he smelled like a force of nature. Derek knew now why he had felt threatened. Magic was one of the few things that could definitively, and lethally injure a werewolf. Claw marks would heal. Bites would mend. Blades. Bullets. But magic….magic was strange and unknown. As were the effects that it could have.

Part of him wants to flee. The wolf howls in distress and anger. But the man…the man was…wanting. It had been so long since the alpha had any real contact. He wanted. Even if the man wasn’t a werewolf. Derek wanted. He wanted, and wanted, and wanted some more. It was a longing that he had been truly afraid to admit to himself.

Lost in thought, he hadn’t noticed the man was no longer concerned with the jar. He was preoccupied with something else. As a matter of fact, he was looking straight towards Derek. Eyes wide, and alert. There was no trace of fear in his scent. But he knew now that the alpha was here.

Neither of them move. Every breath is bated. Derek can hear both of their heartbeats. Then, the man goes inside. Quicker than the alpha could move or think. The wolf whines in distress. As does the man. For very different reasons. He doesn’t have time to mourn the magic user’s absence before he returns. Something in his hands.

He approaches Derek without concern or trepidation. The alpha growls a low warning just as the man comes within ten feet. He smiles softly at the wolf. Setting down what he had been carrying. Which was a rather large chunk of meat. Fresh meat at that.

The man turns on his heel and leaves. Saying nothing. Derek is confused. Confused but grateful. He takes the meat and runs back into the density of the trees. Taking the gift with him. It was by no means close to the amount that he would normally eat. But it meant that he at least didn’t have to worry about hunting for the night. What he did have to worry about, is whether he was going to go back.

***

Stiles hadn’t been in the cottage for very long. Not by most people’s standards. He had made the decision just a little over a year ago. Moving away from everything and everyone he had ever known. It was not an easy choice. Given that his life was back in Beacon Hills. And his father and friends were more than able to come and see him. Still, he couldn’t be around people. Not anymore.

His mother had told him when he was young. Old enough to understand, but still too young to fully grasp the entirety of it. She had magic in her fingers. And now, that Stiles was getting older, he would to. It was a trait in her family. The first born child would inherit from the one before them.

At first, it was kinda cool. Really cool actually. He could make lights and speak to animals. At least, he could feel what they were thinking. He could make little flowers grow in the garden. Even during the winter. Things were awesome. Until they weren’t.

His mom got sick. Really, really sick. There was nothing that they could do. Nothing that could be alleviated. She died scared and confused. Eyes fixed to a place that no one could follow. They buried her in the rain. After that, Stiles didn’t like his magic so much anymore. After all, it couldn’t help him save his mother. And then, things got even worse.

Things started moving without him meaning them to. Spreading around or floating. His magic had never been able to do that. It was scary at first. Then, he learned to control it. Which was fine. Then, things started breaking. Things started catching on fire. He had to work even harder to keep his magic a secret.

School wasn’t fun. Kids were mean. Kids were really, really mean. His mother always told him…never use your magic to harm others. Never use your magic for petty purposes or revenge. He could have given them rashes or boils. Or gave them nightmares for a week. He didn’t. Because his mother had taught him otherwise.

Then, one day, his senior year, after so many years of control and secrets, he lost it. Scott, his best friend in the world, was having an asthma attack on the field. Stiles was there. Whispering in the language that his mother had taught him. Then, some asshole on the opposing team made a remark. Slight, and cruel. Stiles turned towards the other boy, cursing as they locked eyes.

There was a split second. A single, split second where everything seemed to go still. Then, the boy curled in on himself. Vomiting horrendously. Collapsing to the ground. Violently convulsing as his teammates surrounded him. Stiles knew what he had done.

He doesn’t leave his room for three days. He doesn’t eat. He doesn’t sleep. Even his dad doesn’t come in. His phone is turned off. The world doesn’t extend past his doorway. He had hurt someone. And it terrified him. Because all he had done was think a single thought. Less than a second. Less than a fraction of a second. And then, the boy was on the ground. He could have killed him. He could have killed him.

He finishes the rest of school from home. Stiles doesn’t know what excuse his father gives the school, but coming from the sheriff, it seemed to be enough. He had his computer, and Wi-Fi, and basically all the textbooks memorized. At the end of it, Stiles managed to graduate with honors at the top of his class. All without ever leaving the comfort or safety of his room. It wouldn’t be long before he would have no other choice.

There was magic in the world. His mother had taught him that. There was good and bad and everything in between. But then, there were older things. Deadlier things. Things that knew nothing of light. Or love. Or happiness.

That only knew shadow and hunger and misery. Things were older than magic. Quite possibly, older than the earth itself. When it came for him, Stiles killed it rather easily. But he knew…Deep in the darkest reaches of his mind, he knew. Things like this would keep coming. So, he left. He left everything that he knew and loved.

The cottage was easy enough to build. The local forest sprites were surprisingly amicable towards helping him. As well as giving him all the knowledge he needed. He wasn’t far from home. But away all the same. Deep in the woods surrounding Beacon Hills. Consumed and enveloped in ancient trees. In ancient magic.

It was very difficult for anyone or anything for that matter, to find him if he didn’t want it. His father. Scott. He knew that they would be in danger if he stayed. Creatures like that were not one of a kind. They were not known to quit. There would be others. The first one was easy enough to kill. The next…he didn’t want to think about it all that much.

The trees brimmed with voices that numbered into infinity. They would protect him. So long as he honored them. So long as he did them no harm. His mother always sound, no matter the magic, peace could be found in nature. That protection could be found. If one knew where to look.

The cottage was nestled away. There were no paths that led to it. At least, none that the average person could find with any ease. Even if they did happen to have magic. Stiles, while lonely at times, appreciated the quiet of it all. The tranquility. The ease of it.

But then, on this particular day, where nothing strange had happened, something did. The wards that he had so carefully placed had tripped. Alerting him to someone, or something, approaching. It did not feel malevolent or cruel. But it was something. Something strong and old and perhaps, like him, terribly lonely.

Much to his surprise, it was a wolf. Well, at the very least, its outward appearance was that of a wolf. The thing was massive. It would have easily stood above Stiles’ waist. Eyes as red as the rising sun. There was an intelligence to it. Something that no ordinary wolf would have had.

Stiles had met plenty of creatures during his time in the woods. Some good. Some bad. Some in between. But nothing like this. This was something else. He couldn’t figure out what. Perhaps a guardian spirit. Or something similar to a church grimm. But there were no graveyards in these woods. There was no cold feeling of corpses that lingered in the air.

The wolf simply stares at him. Awed as much as Stiles was. Trying, he thought, to figure the other one out. A human, in this part of the woods, was not common. Where magic filled the very air. Where everything was bigger and older than most could comprehend. It was a strange thing. The silence between them.

After he was able to gather his thoughts, he heads back inside. Grabbing a piece of the deer that he had butchered earlier. It was a large animal, and would feed him for several days. There was more than enough to give to the wolf. Perhaps that’s why it had come this way. Hunger was a terrible thing.

When he approaches the beast, he can see a trace of fear in its eyes. A low growl tells him that he’s moved close enough. And that any more could result in the both of them being hurt. He simply places the meat on the ground. Walking away with a smile. The animal takes and runs into the density of the trees. Vanishing into the encroaching darkness of the evening.

Once back inside the cottage, he cleans up after himself. Putting things back where they belong. Shelves neatly lines and organized. Back home, he had never been this put together. Like most teenage boys, he was rather messy and, at times, somewhat sloppy.

Stiles made sure to keep track of his things. Making sure that everything had a position and a place. It gave him a sense of normalcy. A sense of something right and true. He was alone in this forest. Alone in these trees. The spirits and the nymphs and the sprites would visit him often. But they were not his friends. They were not his family.

Which is why the wolf felt so…strange. It had the appearance of beast. But its eyes were far more intelligent. Far more…vast. Stiles could see something behind them. See and perhaps hear something. It didn’t feel like any of the other animals he had met. Then again, the forest was old. And where old things grew, old things lived. Perhaps, like him, the wolf was something magic. Perhaps not. It didn’t really matter. What did, was what he was going to the do if it came back.

***

Derek was…confused. He had lost count of how many days he had been a wolf. Days blurred into weeks. Weeks blurred into months. Months blurred into years. Time stretched and bent and snapped. Staying as a wolf meant very little in that regard. But now, that had changed.

Meeting the man from the cottage, (he remembered the word), had changed things. It had changed Derek. It was the first person in a long time that he had felt drawn towards. He had chased of other humans. The hikers. The campers. The drunken teenage idiots. But this one…this man was different.

It took Derek coming back several times to realize it. To realize what it meant. The man was always busy with something. In the daylight hours he often cleaned around his cottage. Or gathered various plants and herbs. On occasion, he hunted. Although, he was rather bad at it. He had no claws or fangs. Nor was he quick or agile. In fact, he was somewhat clumsy. Derek pitied him.

The alpha would sometimes find a few fat rabbits for the man. He seemed to appreciate them. And always gave Derek a fair share of meat. It felt…good. And one day, just as normally as things had been, it had clicked. Derek knew why he felt the way he did. Why the man was so different than the other humans. He was pack.

It struck him as odd that his wolf wanted this man as a pack member. He was not a werewolf. True, he had humans in his family. But they were family. He had never heard of an outside human being pack without being given the bite. But, all the same, Derek felt his wolf rumble with pleasure being near the man. And, as the days stretched on, it wasn’t just about pack.

The first time the man touches Derek, it comes as a surprise. He hadn’t been expecting it. He hadn’t thought that the man would ever be so bold or brave. It was a simple touch. A passing of his fingers over Derek’s head. He melts into it. Falls into it. Craving it more and more and more. The man simply laughs. Scratching Derek behind his ears.

“I knew you’d come to like me, eventually. My name is Stiles, by the way. Don’t really know if you can understand me or not. But one thing’s for sure, you’re no ordinary wolf.”

The alpha just leaned into the man’s touch even further. Savoring the first contact he’d had in years. The first touch. The first affection. It felt…good. Strange and foreign, in a sense. Because, after so long, this man had become his pack. Without Derek realizing it, but wanting it entirely.

He stops by most days. Even if it’s just to see if the man is still alive and well. He wasn’t a wolf, so there was no pack bond. At least, not in the traditional sense. Derek could not feel the man has he had felt his family. It was a constant state of worry for him.

Stiles, as the man called himself, had no claws. No fangs. He could not run very well. And wasn’t all that great at hunting. Derek worried and worried. Humans were fragile after all. They broke and battered rather easily. Worst still, they didn’t heal like wolves did. Which meant that they could be laid up for weeks.

He hunts as often as necessary. Bringing Stiles good, fresh meat. Careful not to overdo it. Humans didn’t eat as much as wolves did. And certainly not as much as alphas. So, Derek was cautious. Stiles was always appreciative of it. Though he did complain about the way Derek smelled and all of the blood. So, the alpha made a habit to wash himself more often.

Things were good. Until they weren’t. For years, Derek had always been on alert. Always been attentive to where he was and what was around him. After all, he wasn’t the only predator in these trees. But after being around Stiles, after finally having something, he had gotten complacent.

When he catches the scent of the bear, his head pops up. Fangs bared. Eyes redder than a fading sun. Wolves were rather territorial creatures. Werewolves especially. In the wild, bears were a close second. The thing was massive. Easily eight feet tall when standing on its hind legs.

Derek had one of two choices. The first, and most obvious, run. He was far faster than a bear. And could easily make an escape if need be. That was the smart decision. He may have been an alpha, and that meant he was strong, but he did not desire needless fighting.

That was the second option. Dangerous. Foolhardy. Unnecessary. On the other hand, this woods were his home. His family’s home. And even though his family was gone, he felt the drive, the sheer _need_ to protect it. On top of everything else, it’s where Stiles had made his home.

Derek knew bears. He had fought and quarreled with them in the past. They were by no means afraid of humans in these parts. And if this one found Stiles….he shuddered at the thought of the carnage that would ensue. So, he grips his claws into the dirt. Tensing his shoulders. Then, he charges.

For anyone close by, the sounds would have been terrible. Two apex predators, hacking away at each other. The bears fangs and claws were bigger. But Derek was faster, and far more agile. That didn’t stop him from being slashed down his side, and near his belly. He yelps in pain. Drawing back. Waiting.

The bear is male by the sheer rage of it. Females were only ever this territorial when it came to their young. There was no scent of cubs around. Still, Derek does not attack aimlessly. The bear was bigger, and far angrier. But Derek…Derek was smarter.

His chance comes when the beast tries to bear down all its weight into a single, heavy strike. Derek neatly dodges, and then leapt upwards. Clamping down on the bear’s neck. Thrashing about. A vice grip. An impossibly tight hold that killed it within seconds. The beast falls to the ground. Lifeless, but still twitching. He had won.

That being said, he could feel blood trickling down his sides. Werewolves, especially alphas, healed quickly. But he had exerted most of what he had in the fight. And though he had won, he was now in danger. Other predators would smell the blood already. No doubt looking for its source. Derek could very easily become victim to scavengers if he wasn’t careful.

There was only one place he could think to go. Pack. Stiles’ cottage had all the lights on when Derek came limping up. He could hardly stand at this point. The world seemed bent and distorted. Everything was fuzzy and out of place. He collapses on the front steps just as the door opens.

“Holy shit!”

The words ring in Derek’s ears as he fades in and out. He can feel hands under his front legs. Good, strong hands. Pulling him along. He wants to help. But he can’t feel his legs all that much. And even if he could, the fight with the bear had left him virtually powerless.

There’s something warm and wet running over him. After a few moments, he realizes that he’s in a bathtub. Derek can’t remember the last time he was in a bathroom. The last time he was in a house for that matter. But he was in Stiles’ cottage. Being bathed. Derek felt his wolf relax ever so slightly.

Stiles’ hands stayed gentle. Carefully washing the alpha’s wounds. Derek didn’t bother trying to keep quiet. He whines ever so slightly. The man’s touch goes even softer. And the alpha just leans into it. The dizziness is better now. He’s still weak, but better.

Stiles struggles to get him out of the tub. Derek helps as much as he could. Which, truthfully, wasn’t all that much. Thankfully, neither of them fall, or slip. Stiles takes his time in drying Derek’s fur. The alpha purrs in the back of his throat. Content to never move again.

“You scared me there, big guy. Guess you aren’t a guardian spirit after all. They don’t have any blood.”

Derek felt that Stiles’ words were fuzzy. He was still reeling from being hurt. Though, he could feel his body starting to heal properly. Even as alpha, after exhausting himself with the fight, it would be at least two days before he was fully recovered.

That being said, he didn’t feel unsafe or threatened. Not with Stiles. Not with Stiles who had bathed him and tended to his wounds. Carefully bandaging him in the best way that he knew how. Covering the slashes in cloth and some kind of paste. It smelled funny and tickled Derek’s nose.

“I probably shouldn’t have you in my house, now that I know you’re an actual wolf. But, my judgement aside, let’s get you into bed buddy.”

It takes a considerable amount of strength for Derek to stand. Let alone walk. Stiles helps him. Easing the burden of his pain. Derek purred low in his throat when the man’s hand found the center of his spine. It felt good in ways that he couldn’t describe.

Stiles’ room is saturated is his scent. The whole room smells like a raincloud over the forest. It smells like pack. Derek found that all the tension was leaving his body. Stiles helps him onto the bed. Soft sheets the smell even more like the man. He lays down. Legs outstretched. He feels the other man lay down next to him.

“My dad would have a heart attack if he were here right now. A two-hundred pound wolf, in my house. In my bed, no less. It’s crazy…but sometimes, I get the feeling that you’re a lot smarter than a wolf.”

Derek snorts in derision. He was a werewolf, yes. But he was not an animal. He was not a mindless, savage beast. But Stiles didn’t know that. All he saw was black fur and red eyes. He didn’t, or rather, couldn’t know that Derek was more.

It was a terrifying thought. That he had spent so many years on four legs. So many years as a wolf. Running and living in the trees. Then, Stiles came along. Out of nowhere. New and beautiful. Tender and trusting. Derek felt…more than he had in a long time. The man felt more now than the wolf did. So, for the first time, in a long time, he pulled back the wolf. Letting go of the fear he had so desperately held onto.

***

In hindsight, bringing a fully grown wolf into his house wasn’t the best of ideas. Stiles had seen the wolf, out and about, for some weeks. Had fed it. Even petted it. They were close. The animal trusted him. And Stiles trusted it. Strangely enough, they got along just fine. The wolf was his only friend.

So, he it showed up on his doorstep, half dead and covered in blood, Stiles nearly lost it. He had thought that the wolf was some kind of guardian creature. A spirit of some kind. Turns out, that was not the case. And he worked as hard as he could to make sure the animal didn’t die.

His magic wasn’t really for that. But he knew how to make salves and tonics. At the very least, it would help with the pain, and promote healing. But he couldn’t out and out stitch anything back together. It seemed to go well enough. The wolf didn’t die, but was weak enough that it needed help.

Had it still be in the wild, it probably would have died. It had come to Stiles because he knew that he would help. That he would make sure that it was safe and okay. He didn’t know what to do with that kind of information. That a wild animal trusted him this much. After being torn and bloodied, to come straight to him.

He helps the creature on his bed. And it seems to make itself comfortable enough. Falling asleep within minutes. Huge body rising and falling with each breath. Stiles should have been more afraid. There was a very large apex predator currently in his house. In his bed. If thing decided to attack him while he slept…all the magic in the world wouldn’t be able to save him.

But he didn’t feel threatened or unsafe. There was an intelligence to the animal’s eyes. A glint of something more than it being a wolf. He didn’t know exactly what it was. But it was something. But he was too tired to think about it. Instead, he just laid his head down. Succumbing to the heaviness of his eyelids.

When he wakes, he can feel something breathing on his neck. Apparently, the wolf was a cuddler. Though, something wasn’t quite right. Stiles could not feel fur touching him anywhere. No. something was not right.

Opening his eyes, he did not see a wolf. What he saw was a man. Dark hair. Full beard. Eyes lidded with sleep. Great chest heaving up and down as he breathed. There was a split second. One, single second where the strangeness of it all was lost on him. Then, he was scrambling out of the bed.

“What the fuck!?”

He shoves himself towards the opposite wall. Hands tingling with magic. Ready for a fight. Ready to protect himself. The man wakes with a start. Eyes flying open. And he was….growling? Yep, the dude was definitely growling. And his eyes…they were…red. Which wasn’t possible. Not in humans anyway.

“Stiles.”

The man’s voice was gravelly and broken. As if he hadn’t spoken for quite some time. Like he had no idea what words were, or how to use them. Almost as if he wasn’t human. Things didn’t make sense. Things…this was entirely too crazy to think about. Because as Stiles looked closer, he saw something else that made no sense.

Dangling from his side, were bandages. Bandages that had been stained with the salve the he had made. And underneath those bandages, were a nasty set of slashes. The same kind that the wolf had. And in the same place at that. Which was impossible.

“Stiles.” The man said again. 

He had been overcome with shock, but he finally noticed. The man had said his name, twice. He knew his name. Which was also impossible. Given that he had never seen the guy before in his life. Yet, here he was. In Stiles’ house. With the same wounds as the wolf had. With the same bandages. And, above all the other crazy shit, he knew Stiles’ name.

“You’re the wolf, aren’t you? The one that’s been coming around my house.”

The man nods. His posture relaxing ever so slightly. Eyes returning to a more human color. A vibrant hazel green. With gold at the edges. He was beautiful. Stiles found his eyes lingering where they shouldn’t. Face going red as a blush crept across his cheeks.

“How? I mean…people just don’t turn from wolf to a person. Can they?” Stiles asked.

“Were……werewolf.”

That…made sense. Given that Stiles had magic, and the fact that he had been attacked by things that craved magic…it wasn’t entirely outside of the realm of possibility. There were plenty of things that he had no knowledge of. The world was a big place.

Stiles, given his isolation, had found quite a niche environment for himself. He had purchases books online. Certified by other magic users. They had plenty of names for themselves. Witches. Wizards. Mages. Whatever it was, he just wanted the knowledge to grow his craft.

But those were spell books and apothecary tomes. Things like that. There was no mention of werewolves or anything of that nature. Not one. He didn’t know what to do now, or next, or anything after that. Because, in his room, was a feral looking man that had once been a wolf. It made as much sense as it didn’t.

“For now, let’s just get you in the shower. And maybe a shave.”

“Derek.” The man said.

“What?”

“My name…Derek.”

“Okay Derek, let’s go take a shower.”

The man nods. Following Stiles into the bathroom. He keeps his eyes above the man’s waist. The room was full of steam and smelled of lavender. The man, Derek, didn’t seem to mind the perfume of it. Stepping into the shower without a second thought. Though, he seemed dismayed that Stiles did not join him.

He does his best to wash the man. Respectfully keeping his hands where they belong. Derek closes his eyes. Purring in the back of his throat like a damn cat. Stiles couldn’t help but smile. It was ridiculous. There was an honest to god werewolf standing in his shower. Purring like a cat laying in the sun.

“Alright big guy, let’s get you shaved, and have a better look at your face.”

Thankfully, Stiles had a pair of electric clippers. So, that part wasn’t all that hard. The hard part, which he should have expected, was getting Derek to be still. The man seemed to dislike the sound the clippers made. Frowning and drawing away from Stiles as he tried to put them to his face.

All he could do was reassure Derek that they weren’t going to hurt him. And that he would feel much better without the wild, scraggly beard covering his face. The man pouts, but otherwise relents to Stiles. It didn’t take all that long. Little tufts of hair falling to the floor. When it was all said and done, Derek looked completely different.

He didn’t look to be that much older than Stiles. Maybe a few years at best. And his was a face that you’d recognize. He was, Stiles admitted, rather attractive. Surely, there would be someone missing him. Someone who was looking for him. That’s when the thought crossed his mind. He could go down to the station and see if there were any missing persons reports.

Beacon Hills wasn’t all that big a place. With nothing all that exciting or dangerous going on. So, if Derek was indeed listed as missing, he shouldn’t be that hard to find. The problem that Stiles faced, on top of everything else, was coming up with an excuse as to why he was looking into Derek.

His father would no doubt have questions. Which he would have to answer. But explaining that the wolf that he’d been hanging out with, (strike one), was in fact a person, was going to do no one any good. Yes, Stiles had magic. That was a fact. But that was entirely different from someone who could literally change between being a person and a wolf.

There was a fine line between sanity and insanity. Stiles had learned that a lot in his life. And in this case, the line had most certainly been crossed. One, there was a werewolf in his house. Two, that person seemed more like an animal than a person. Strangely enough. Lastly, he had no idea what the fuck to do from here.

His dad answers on the first call, surprisingly. Given that he was the sheriff, and often worked late and odd hours.

“So, that’s basically it.”

_“Stiles, you’re telling me that, you found a strange man in the woods. Brought him into your house, and he seems to have…issues. I don’t even know where to begin.”_

“I don’t really know what else to say. He was…scared. He’s harmless, really. I promise. Besides, I can take care of myself.” Stiles felt his own voice tremble with uncertainty.

_“I can run the name Derek against missing persons. Wish we had a bit more to go on kid, cause it isn’t much.”_

Stiles knew that from the get go. Derek was a man/wolf of few words. He could barely talk. As if words were strange and foreign. He had amended the part about being a werewolf to his dad. That could wait. For how long, Stiles didn’t really know. He didn’t like keeping secrets from his dad. They were closer. Especially after his mom had died.

It was one of the reasons why he wanted to run the missing persons’ report. More than likely, Derek had at least one person looking for him. One person that he had been searching. When people disappeared, they had others searching. Odds were low, given how little they knew, but Stiles kept hope up. As much as he could.

After the shower, Derek seemed to be, well, sleepy. Stiles only had one room in the cottage. But was more than happy to relinquish his bed to the man. After, he had been sleeping in the woods for god only knows how long. Though, when he led Derek to the bed, the man seemed entirely unwanting to stay there. At least, not without Stiles.

He had turned to walk away when he felt a hand grab the back of his shirt. Derek eyes were wide and bright. A little bit desperate. Stiles knew that look. The man didn’t have to say a thing. So, in the interest of keeping him calm, Stiles laid down next to him. And was instantly wrapped in two hundred pounds of werewolf.

Derek wrapped his arms around Stiles. Pressing his nose in the man’s neck. Once again purring in the back of his throat. Seemingly enamored with Stiles in a way that the young magic user didn’t quite understand. Sure, they knew each other. Rather, Stiles knew the wolf that he had been hanging out with for the last few weeks. That’s what he knew.

He knew nothing of Derek other than his name, and that he was a werewolf. But Derek, in his own mind, felt that he knew plenty about Stiles. Given that he was willing to share a bed with him. And trusted the man to treat his wounds when he had been injured. There was a misbalance of trust at hand, and Stiles had no idea about what to do.

He did not, in any way, think that Derek would harm him. Or steal from him. Or do anything that would hurt him. Still, the strangeness of it all was not lost on him. The strange wolf that turned out to be a man. The strange man that seemed so far from reality that it hurt. The reality that was so clear now that Stiles knew nothing of what would come next.

They fall asleep like that, the two of them. Stiles on his back. With Derek atop his chest. Lightly slumbering. Peaceful and content. Despite the madness of the last twenty four hours. Despite the uncertainty. Despite the fact, that among everything else, there was a werewolf in his bed.

He doesn’t know what time it is when his phone rings. Only that it’s late. Given that the sun had gone down. It was well into the night, and they had not moved. Stiles answers with a grumble. Unaware that who was on the other side of the line, or the news that his father held.

“Wait, say that again.”

_“I said, the only missing person’s report filed for a Derek in Beacon County was over six years ago. For one Derek Hale. Sixteen at the time, and hasn’t been seen or heard from since.”_

Stiles looked at Derek as he slept. He could see it. The features of the man’s face were softer as he slumbered away. Early twenties was a good estimate for his age. If he was indeed the Derek his father had found, that would make him around twenty two.

“What’s the last name?” Stiles asked.

_“Hale. Derek Hale.”_

He had heard of the name Hale. There was a whole family that lived in the preserve with that name. Stiles didn’t know what had happened to them, or why they moved away. Or even if they did move away. But this was the best lead they had. He was going to follow it.

“Thanks for looking into it. I’ll call you back after I talk to him.

_“Stiles…”_

He didn’t give his father any time to say anything. Stiles ended the call. Placing the phone back down onto the nightstand. The movement jostled Derek, who growled lowly in displeasure. Stiles, against his better judgement, shook the man awake further. Ensuring that he was awake.

“Derek Hale.”

The man’s eyes opened wide. Turning a deep shade of scarlet. The same color that they were when Stiles first met him. When he was still in the shape of a wolf. Still more animal than man. He didn’t know how much of Derek was currently present. And how much of the wolf was. He decided to proceed with caution.

“That’s your name, Derek Hale. I had my dad look into it. You’ve been missing for six years. There are people looking for you. Do you understand?”

Derek looks at Stiles with a hard, blank expression. Something that is equal parts confused, and equal parts heartbroken. He doesn’t know what else to say. He knows nothing of why Derek was the way he was. Why he had retreated into his animal self. Abandoning the world of humans, and the notions of civilization. Why he was so far gone that he could hardly seem to speak sometimes.

“We can call them. We can…the people who are looking for you.”

“No.” The word came out like a funeral dirge.

“Okay. I won’t ask why. But you can’t stay in my cottage forever. And you can’t stay like this forever, either. You have…somebody is looking for you. Somebody who’s been looking for six years, Derek.”

The man pulls Stiles closer. Almost bone crushingly tight. There is a small whimpering noise coming from the back of his throat. Like his heart was breaking. Like all the world was on fire, and he was choking on the ashes of it. Stiles just held him back. Rubbing small circles in the man’s hair.

“Pack. Stiles…Stiles pack.”

Derek, even in this state, could barely manifest words. Stiles didn’t know what he meant. He didn’t know what ‘pack’ entailed. Though, from what it seemed like, it meant that Derek trusted him. And it pained the man that he would be breaking it. Because as he held the wolf with one hand, he used the other to quietly text his father. Derek Hale had been found.

**Author's Note:**

> That was heartbreaking and painful. And barely a fluff chaser to make things better. Next chapter, Derek finds out that certain truths he had assumed were wrong, and Stiles learns the meaning of the word 'boundaries'. Thanks for reading, and as always, much love.


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